Chapter 15 Ophelia
OPHELIA
It’s Saturday morning, the last weekend before Christmas. Just a few days to go.
I used to love these days growing up, used to want to draw them out as long as I could. Most kids love Christmas morning. I get it. You’re anxious to get to the gifts.
For me, though, it was always over too soon, and I wanted to make it last. I loved having my dad home with me and not off to his endless meetings, and for some reason, he’d talk about Mom more over the holiday. He’d tell the same stories every year and wipe away tears that didn’t lessen over time.
Weirdly, I liked seeing this. It entranced me that my father loved this woman who’d given birth to me—who I had no recollection of—so very much. Mom loved Christmas, and they seem to be some of their happiest memories. I don’t think he realized how much I needed to hear those stories.
Now, though, I dread it all. I wish it were over and it was January already.
I sit on the edge of the bed in my apartment, a mug of coffee warming my hands, while I watch soft flakes of snow fall outside. The roads will be a mess, but from up here, it’s serene and perfect. For a little while, I can stay here, cocooned against what is coming.
There is a stillness so complete here that I imagine I can hear the flakes when they land on the floor to ceiling windows. I bring the steaming mug to my lips and drink a sip of coffee sweetened with sugar and cream, my half-packed suitcase on the edge of the bed next to me.
I look at the engagement ring sitting on the nightstand and feel a knot in my stomach.
I don’t know how I got here, how Ethan and I got here.
When Ethan proposed, I wasn’t remotely ready for it.
As far as I was concerned, it came out of nowhere.
I wonder where the disconnect was, how I didn’t see where his head was when mine was so not there.
Not even close. It was also the worst possible timing.
When I think back on it, I wonder if I missed signs, if I was so absorbed in what was happening to my father that I just wasn’t paying attention, but not once can I pinpoint a time when Ethan was on such a different track than I was.
Over the years, Ethan and I have had a strange relationship, I guess.
He was one of the only boys I had contact with.
My father was very protective of me growing up.
I attended an all-girls school. I was shy and never quite fit with the girls there, and the boys at the sister school never looked twice at me when we had any interaction with them.
But I’d had a crush on Ethan. Maybe it was because he was older.
Maybe it was because he was the only boy in my life apart from Silas, who was never a boy, and that’s another story altogether.
Maybe it was the fact that we were always thrown together.
Even when Ethan went away to college we spent time together when he returned.
Maybe it was just easier when he visited his parents, as I was the only girl around since we lived a little way out of town proper.
Or maybe it was his parents giving him little nudges.
I’m not sure he’s even attracted to me, and honestly, my crush on him growing up had faded as I grew into an adult.
Although he’s never been unkind to me, there’s an edge to Ethan, especially when he’s home.
There’s a tension between him and his father that makes me wonder if, at times, Ethan isn’t a little afraid of him and, at other times, something else. Something darker.
But I digress.
When he proposed, I told him I wasn’t ready, but just as I wasn’t ready to say yes, he wasn’t willing to take no for an answer.
I, like a coward, had caved. I took the ring.
Said I’d think about it when all the while I was just putting off telling him no.
I only accepted his proposal minutes after Silas walked out on me after saying all those things he said.
All those things that had left me reeling.
It was a mistake. I should never have accepted Ethan’s ring.
Now, though? Now I can’t put it off any longer. I can’t pretend with Ethan and hope it will go away on its own. If I don’t stop this now, there will be an announcement, and it will be harder than ever to get out of it.
Ethan will be here later today, and we’ll drive together to Sinistral.
We’re supposed to spend the Christmas holiday there.
My dress for the Foxes’ annual masquerade ball hangs from the closet door.
The seamstress had it sent over yesterday, the final alterations complete just in time for the big event.
Guilt gnaws at me. I know how much it cost. Mira chose my dress from her favorite Italian designer and had it made to order before I even had the event on my radar.
I guess she wanted to be sure I wore something that would befit her son’s social standing.
My tastes are much simpler than hers, and she, like Ethan, is particular about my hair and makeup, the way I am seen to the public.
The gown is stunning, a crimson floor-length satin dress with a deep slit that runs along my right thigh.
The mask doesn’t actually conceal who I am as much as accentuate my best features.
Mira will also be lending me her prized ruby choker for the night.
It’s really a night to show off their wealth and renewed standing.
This year, it may be more important than previous years, given what’s happened—and the fact that they canceled it the last three years running while Sly was under investigation.
It’ll be the first since the end of the trial, and the Foxes will announce our engagement then.
I should be grateful, considering, I know, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s not real. My feelings for Ethan aren’t what they should be. I know that. I’ve known it for a long time. The other day, I lied to Silas. I don’t love Ethan. I’m not sure I ever have.
My mind wanders to the ball five years ago.
I was seventeen, months from turning eighteen.
Ethan had been away at college. He hadn’t seen me since school had started, and I’d wanted to make an impression when he got home.
Mira had helped me choose my dress then, too, and Dad hadn’t liked it much because he’d thought it was too revealing.
He’d made me wear a silk wrap, which Mira had hated, but I didn’t mind.
To be honest, the dress was a little lower cut than I was comfortable with, but Mira Fox is not an easy woman to say no to.
There is a pattern here. None of the Foxes take no for an answer very easily.
That year I’d worn a full face, ornate mask bought from a specialty shop in Venice. It had cost a fortune, but I knew I wanted it as soon as I saw it in one of Mrs. Fox’s magazines, and I saved up. But it hadn’t been Ethan who’d been surprised that night. It had been me.
Silas Cruz had come to the party. Not that he’d been invited, but given the masks, he’d managed to sneak in, and he’d done it for no reason other than to fuck with the Foxes.
My stomach flutters at the thought of Silas, my mind wandering to the other night at his hotel.
I’d gone to tell him off. I’d gone because I was still angry and humiliated and hurt from the last time I saw him.
But what happened hadn’t been me telling him off.
It had turned into something else entirely, and I can’t stop thinking about it or about him.
He’s right. What I feel when he touches me is something completely different than anything I’ve ever felt with or for Ethan. Silas is fireworks and heat, a blaze so fucking hot it will incinerate us both, turn us to ash. With Ethan, well, it’s something that fizzled out before it even began.
I shake my head, stand, and go to the window. I set my forehead against the cool glass and look down onto the street, at people coming and going, doing their last-minute Christmas shopping. Living their normal lives.
What I feel for Ethan is friendship, I think. It’s two kids growing up together like we did. He’s not the one I wake in the middle of the night reaching for. He’s not the one that makes my stomach twist and turn with an ache so powerful, I think I will die of it.
I hate myself a little for that, for what I know is a betrayal. Ethan deserves better than I’m giving him, and tonight, before we head to Sinistral, I am determined to give him the ring back. This time, it will be me who won’t take no for an answer.
The doorbell rings and I jump. It’s barely noon.
Ethan is picking me up after work, but I hear the key in the door and a moment later, I hear his voice.
It irritates me that he lets himself in.
I never gave him a key. His dad did, and since the apartment belongs to the Foxes, I’ve never felt like I could ask him to give it back.
When I did ask that he not simply let himself in whenever he feels like it, he rolled his eyes and reminded me who owned the place. Now every time he rings the doorbell, it just grates, like he’s doing it for show. Like every time it’s a reminder of just how deeply indebted I am to the Foxes.
I walk into the living room to find Ethan carrying a big box.
“There you are,” he says, closing the door with his foot. He looks surprised I’m still in my pajamas. “Get a late start?”
He sets the box on the counter. When he comes to give me a kiss, I turn my face, so he kisses my cheek. Guilt gnaws at me.
“You’re not supposed to be here until later,” I say, setting my coffee mug in the sink and keeping my back to him while I wash it.
He wraps his arms around me from behind, and I know he feels me stiffen. He must. He kisses my cheek. “Can’t I surprise my fiancée?”
“Of course,” I say, forcing a smile before turning and moving out of his embrace to dry my hands. “What’s that?”
“Invitations.”
Ah. His gaze moves to my hand, and he raises his eyebrows when he finds my ring finger empty. “Where’s your ring, Phee?”